Hamish walked in, freshly cut hair and with his Harley Davidson motorbike teeshirt. He doesn't ride a motorbike, only my friend Caleb does. Caleb with his childhood stories of New Guinea. And we lay by the lakeside earlier in the week, we would go lake hunting with Willem to fill afternoons. Caleb in the backseat, Willem and I in the front. Car windows open. We found fresh water lakes, and Caleb sucking in deep mouthfuls of water and lying listlessly in the summer sun, his shaved chest with little diffident hairs growing out. Junk shops and chip shops. Caleb is all a little lost, but Hamish seems self secured and stable. And Darian seems happy, and Richard seems happy. And the city feels the same and all different at once. And what we talk about when we talk about.